“Angie?”
She inclined her head toward Amalie’s voice. “Yes, Honey.”
The bed springs protested with a loud squeak as Amalie climbed up beside her. “What’s wrong?” the little girl whispered. “Are you crying?”
“I suppose a little.”
Amalie snuggled next to her and wrapped her arm around her middle. “Don’t cry,” she said softly. “I’ll give you a present if you’ll stop.”
“A present?” Angeline sniffed and dried her eyes on the pillowcase. “Oh, Honey, you don’t have to give me a present.”
She felt Amalie move off the bed and then return. “I think this was supposed to be yours anyway,” she said, as she placed something round in Angeline’s hand.
Angeline fumbled for the light. “What do you have here?”
Opening her palm, she saw a gold ring with a brilliant ruby stone in the center of a nest of diamonds. It was exquisite and definitely expensive.
“Where in the world did you get this?”
“I think it fell out of Dr. Jeff’s pocket,” Amalie said, her face all innocence.
“Dr. Jeff? When did you see Dr. Jeff, and why do you think this fell out of his pocket?”
Twenty-one
Jeff stood in the circle of light illuminating his childhood bedroom. All his possessions, what little he chose to take, were packed into two suitcases and waiting in the hall downstairs. It would be several hours until the daybreak train for New York arrived, but he’d been up all night packing and saw no need for sleep now.
Better to get this over with, he decided. Shutting the door on his memories, he walked down to Pop’s study and took out a sheaf of writing paper from the drawer. With a heavy heart, he penned a note to Mrs. Mike telling her to close the house and leave all Pop’s things as they were. Maybe someday he would return. In the meantime, she could continue to draw her pay and have use of her rooms in the house.
It was the least he could do, considering the woman’s faithful service to the Villare family. Family. He let out a wry laugh. He had no family. He was it, the last of a long line of Villares, and when the train left for New York, the line would end.
Angeline had made her choice, and with that choice his time in Latanier had ended as well. What good was a bayou doctor with a broken heart? No, it was better to keep away from the complicated matter of doctoring real live people and go about the business of dealing only with test tubes and microscopes.
Shouldering his bags, Jeff took one last look around, then resolutely turned and walked out into the night. Tomorrow, he would be so far away from the bayou that the memories could not find him.
No, that’s not right. They will always give chase. Maybe someday I’ll let them catch me.
❧
Angeline dressed at first light and stole away from the house before anyone could miss her. Rather than risk Papa missing one of the boats, she set out walking toward town. By the time she arrived on Jefferson’s doorstep, she was exhausted.
Worse than her sore feet was her aching heart. Amalie’s story of an excited Jefferson heading down the path toward the bayou kept her awake most of the night. There could only be one reason why she never saw him yesterday. He had seen her first.
Her and Nicolas.
She summoned all her strength and pushed on the buzzer. A moment later, Mrs. Mike answered the door.
“Well, well, Miss Angeline,” she said with a smile. “Welcome, Child. Come on in.”
Angeline followed the housekeeper inside. The big house felt as quiet as a tomb. Inside her skirt pocket, the ring rested.
“I came to see Jefferson. Is he here?”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Mike said slowly. “He left this morning.”
“Left?”
Her look of pity spoke volumes. “Yes, he’s off to New York and that fancy new job of his. Didn’t you know?”
Angeline squared her shoulders and forced back the tears as she reached into her pocket and produced the ring. “He left this at my house. Could you see that he gets it?”
She fled before Mrs. Mike could answer. With every step she took toward home, she said a prayer that God would allow her to be the wife she should be. As she prayed, however, she also cried.
To her surprise, she returned home that afternoon to find Mathilde sitting behind Papa’s shed in the same state. “What’s wrong, Mattie?”
Mathilde looked up, surprised. “Nothing,” she said as she looked away. “Everything. Oh, it’s just more than I can bear.”
Angeline sank down beside her and leaned her back against the rough cypress boards of the shed. Pulling her knees to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs and closed her eyes. “All right, Sis. Tell me everything.”
When she finished, Angeline looked up at Mathilde. “Does he feel the same way?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry, Angie.”
Angeline patted her sister’s knee. “Don’t be sorry,” she said with a smile. “This just might be the very thing God meant to happen.”
Mathilde swiped at her tears with the back of her hand. “Do you think so?”
“Yes, I think so, now get up and dry your eyes. We’ve got some work to do.” She reached for her sister’s hand and pulled her to a standing position. “I’ve got a plan, but in order for it to work, we have to tell Ernest. Are you willing to do that?”
❧
June 10 dawned bright, and as the little church began to fill with people, Angeline stood in the pastor’s study along with Mama and Mathilde.
A bouquet of pink roses from Tante Flo’s garden lay tied with a white ribbon atop her great-grandmother Breaux’s Bible. Her veil, sewn with love by Mathilde and Amalie, sat beside the Bible. Angeline lifted the flowers to smell their fragrant blossoms.
“Are you nervous, Bebe?” Mama asked as she toyed with the edge of Angeline’s white veil.
“Just the usual wedding day jitters.” She took the veil from Mama and set it atop her head. The layers of beaded satin and tulle were so thick, she could barely see through them. “I’ll be fine as soon as the ceremony is over.”
“Yes, you will,” Mama said. She turned to face Mathilde. “You look more nervous than your sister.”
“Don’t be silly, Mama,” she said.
“Here, Angeline,” Mama said. “Let me pin your veil in better, Bebe. It’s all crooked. My goodness, this thing is heavy. Why’d you use such thick fabric, eh? You are gonna stumble down the aisle, blind as a bat, with all this stuff over your face.”
“It’ll be fine, Mama,” Angeline said.
Mama fluffed the veil back into place. “Now, that’s better.”
“Shouldn’t you go sit down, Mama?” Mathilde asked.
“That’s right,” Angeline added. “It’s nearly time.”
Mama stared at both of them for a long moment. “You two, you’re not up to something funny, are you?”
It was all Angeline could do not to giggle when her gaze met Mathilde’s. “No, Mama,” they said in unison.
“Angie, your papa would never forgive you if you ran off on your wedding day, you know that, eh? And besides, the Lord decides who you’re gonna marry, and that’s that.”
“I’m not running off, Mama, I promise, and I know God’s in control. Relax.”
“Well then, I suppose I’ll go join Papa. It’s almost time for the service to start.” She gave Angeline a sideways glance. “Sure is strange you wanting to walk down the aisle without your papa holding your arm.”
Angeline smiled and patted her mother’s hand. “Mama, I told you I wanted to see you and Papa waiting down front together. Besides, don’t you think Ernest can handle the job of walking his sister down the aisle?”
Mama sighed and bustled out of the small room. Mathilde closed the door and set the lock. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I will ever be,” Angeline said.
A few minutes later, Ernest knocked on the door. “Reverend Dautrive says to fetch you. It�
�s time.”
“Just a minute,” Mathilde called. She whirled around to gather Angeline into an embrace. “You can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t let you.”
Angeline held her sister at arm’s length. “Have you changed your mind?”
“No.”
“Then there’s nothing to talk about. Let’s go.”
When Angeline and Mathilde walked out together ten minutes later, Ernest whistled low. “You’re a beautiful bride. Nicolas is going to be pleased.”
“I just hope Papa is,” Angeline said softly.
❧
Jeff urged the conductor to hurry, fairly flying down the steps before they were securely on the ground at the station. The train had been delayed in Shreveport and again in New Iberia, and the result was he’d arrived in Latanier a full six hours later than he planned.
Even if he’d been on time, he was probably too late. Still, he had to try.
“Hold up there, Young Man,” the conductor called. “You didn’t get your bags.”
“I’ll be back for them later,” he cried as he raced away toward the center of town and the little church where a wedding should have started ten minutes ago.
A dark Model A that looked suspiciously like Pop’s pulled to the curb beside the train station. “Mr. Jeff!”
“Mrs. Mike?” He leaned into the open window. “What are you doing here?”
“You think you can come back here and me not find out? I’m getting you to the church on time—well, almost on time.” She motioned for him to open the door. “Now get in and hang on.”
When he complied, she handed him an envelope with his name on it. “What’s this?”
“Miss Angeline brought it the day you left.” She smiled. “God and I have been talking about when you planned to give it back to her.”
Jeff opened the envelope to see his mother’s ring. “How did she get it?”
Mrs. Mike shrugged and checked her watch. “I don’t suppose you have time to ask her that right now.” She pulled next to the curb in front of the church. “Now get on inside and stop that wedding.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Jeff gave her a mock salute and tucked the ring inside his vest pocket.
“This time make sure it stays in that pocket until you put it on her finger.”
“Will do,” he called as he took the brick steps two at a time and pushed hard on the church’s ancient cypress front doors.
He could hear Reverend Dautrive, but the words he said were not clear. As long as he wasn’t pronouncing someone man and wife, he still had time.
At the altar were the bride and groom, the preacher positioned between them. The Acadian held Angeline’s hands in his.
“Wait, stop the wedding!” he said as the doors slammed behind him. “Stop, Angeline, you can’t marry him. I love you, and I want to stay here in Latanier and take Doc up on his offer of a partnership.”
“Well, now, this is highly irregular,” the reverend said. “Jeff, do sit down and let me finish this ceremony.”
“I can’t do that, Reverend.” His gaze sought and found Theophile Breaux. “Sir, I have loved your daughter for as long as I can remember. I had to get all the way to New York City to realize I couldn’t live without her.”
Theophile opened his mouth to say something, but Clothilde put a hand on his arm and shook her head.
“If you would allow me her hand in marriage, I promise you I will never take her away from Latanier.”
An eternity passed before Theophile spoke. “Nicolas Arceneaux, what say you on this?”
“I say I want this bride for my own, Sir.” He gathered her to his side.
“You have your answer, Son.” Theophile returned to his seat. “Go on, Reverend, and marry up those two.”
No, Lord, please don’t let this happen. You showed me I had to come back for her, now show me Your favor and allow me to marry her.
Reverend Dautrive nodded toward Theophile, then cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here—”
Desperation washed over him. Right before his eyes, he was losing the love of his life. He raced toward the altar and embraced Angeline.
“Angeline, no! Don’t marry him. Marry me.”
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
The words came from the back of the church. A gasp went up in the crowd as Jeff looked over his shoulder to see Angeline standing behind the last row of pews.
“But, if you’re there then. . .” Jeff lifted the veil of the bride to reveal Mathilde standing there. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Angeline rushing toward him. He met her halfway and collected her into his arms.
“I missed you,” he whispered. “Will you really marry me?”
She snuggled her head against the crook of his neck and leaned into his embrace. “I will.”
“What in the world is going on?” Theophile shouted. “What do you girls mean by switching places?” He turned to Mama. “Did you know about this?”
Mama shook her head. “No, not this time.”
“I love him, Papa,” Mathilde said as she linked arms with Nicolas. “And he loves me.”
“I fell in love with her the first time I saw her, but I didn’t know she felt the same way.” Nicolas stepped forward. “I didn’t want to marry her like this, but it seemed like the only way.”
“But the license,” Papa sputtered. “He was supposed to marry Angie, not you.”
“We got one, Sir,” Nicolas said. “I promise it’s all legal.”
“And you?” Papa whirled around to stare at Jeff. “You got a license too?”
Jeff smiled. “Not yet, but I have a ring.” He produced the ring from his pocket. “If she’ll marry me today, we’ll get the license tomorrow, I promise.”
“Can you do that?” Papa asked the preacher.
Reverend Dautrive pondered the issue a moment. “I suppose I could, but no honeymoon until it’s legal, eh?”
“You can be sure of that.” Papa stood once more and glared at Jeff. “Not only is the Lord watching you, but so is her papa and you don’t want to tangle with either of us, you hear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Jeff said as he walked up the aisle with Angeline at his side. “And I promise I won’t disappoint you or Him.” He leaned toward Angeline and kissed her soundly. “And I won’t disappoint you either. Je t’aime, Ma Chere.”
“I love you too,” she said as she looked past him to Mama and smiled.
Angeline Breaux’s Shrimp Gumbo
Every Louisiana cook has his or her own recipe for gumbo. Often these recipes have no definitive measuring involvedbut rather go by sight, taste, and experience. While I have attempted to offer a “real” recipe, this is by no means the only way to make authentic Louisiana Shrimp Gumbo.
1 cup vegetable oil
1 cup flour
1–2 cups chopped onions
1 tablespoon garlic powder
1–2 teaspoons celery salt
1–2 pounds shrimp, peeled and headed
1⁄4 cup chopped green onions
salt and pepper to taste
Combine flour and oil in large pot, preferably cast iron. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly for 20 to 30 minutes, until dark brown. Add onions and seasonings and cook, stirring occasionally for 10 to 15 minutes until onions are soft. Add 8 cups water to mixture and blend. Simmer uncovered 1 to 2 hours, stirring occasionally. Add shrimp and cook additional 15 minutes. Stir in green onions and cook 2 to 3 minutes. Serve over rice.
About the Author
Kathleen Y’Barbo is an award-winning novelist and sixth-generation Texan. After completing a degree in marketing at Texas A&M University, she spent the next decade and a half raising children (four) and living in such diverse places as Lafayette, Louisiana; Port Neches, Texas; and Jakarta, Indonesia. She now lives with her nearly grown brood near Houston, Texas, where she is active in Fellowship of the Woodlands Church as well as being a member of American Christian Romance Writers and Inspirational Writers Alive. She al
so speaks on the craft of writing at the elementary and secondary levels.
Dedication
To the amazing prayer warriors at FOTW, Seared Hearts, and all the others who prayed this book into existence, and to my heavenly Father, who gave me the words when I had none. Also many thanks to Colleen, Aly, and Jan for the meals. I owe you this book and more. God bless you all et merci bien!
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Kathleen Y’Barbo
Author Relations
PO Box 719
Uhrichsville, OH 44683
Bayou Fever Page 15